


Triptych for the Hearing

by chemicalburnfromthespiralperm



Series: Triptych Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: American Sign Language, Bisexual Sam, Deaf Character, Deaf Sam, Deaf Sam Winchester, Deaf!Sam, F/M, M/M, Sam-Centric, deafness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6890347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm/pseuds/chemicalburnfromthespiralperm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why didn't you ever get me a cochlear?" "Because you're not broken, Sam."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Triptych One: Threnody

**Author's Note:**

> Sam Winchester was born Deaf, but he wasn't born broken.

**PRELUDE - JUNE 1983**

"I'm sorry."

They keep saying that.

Mary isn't quite sure what's considered proper conduct, but she can't actually handle all of this.  She's never even heard of another mother going through this.  You hear about these kinds of people all the time -- hearing impaired, hard of hearing, differently-abled...  deaf.

They keep saying that over and over.   **Deaf** , and their tone of voice makes it seem like it's something bad.  So Sam can't hear -- he'll never hear her voice, or Dean's, or John's, never hear a car engine, or the wind blowing through grass...  but who **fucking** cares?  Sam is alive.  Isn't that what matters?  Her precious baby will continue to live, even if it's without his hearing.  Sam will grow up, Sam will still be here.  Nothing else is important.

Mary and John watch from the window of Sam's hospital room -- Dean curled up in the chair beside Sam's little crib, careful of the wires, the cords that make him less human, that stick out of his pudgy skin.  He's asleep, right next to Dean like he always is, only sleeps when Dean is around and they don't really know why...  but tonight is different.

If only they'd been more careful.  If only they'd taken care of him.  John keeps muttering those things under his breath, ignoring the doctor's warnings, his diagnosis, his _prognosis._

"It's not a death sentence, Mr. Winchester.  There isn't anything wrong with him --"

"You're tellin' me my newborn son will NEVER hear again?  That he's gonna be deaf for the rest of his life and that means there's NOTHING wrong with him?"

"John, please -- "

"Mary, don't!"

John's jaw is set, his brow heavy, looks like he could break apart any second, or kill someone.  Mary has seen enough of what a murderous gaze looks like in her lifetime...  she never wanted to see it in her husband.

"John, stop -- this isn't the end of his life!  He's still alive!"  She tries her best to grab his arm, but he jerks away from her.  "John."

It takes him a moment before he realizes what he's done.

"Mary, I'm not gonna let him be a freak.  I won't let that happen to him."

There's a moment when Mary's sure that she doesn't know who her husband is anymore.

The doctor steps forward to try and assuage the situation, but Mary holds up a placating hand.  He needs his wife.

"John... we have so much time.  We have so much to learn!  There is so much we don't know, so much we can do!"

He just glares.  "And so much that he now **can't**."

Mary is positive she's staring into the eyes of a man she's never met.  This can't be John, her John, not the John she married and not the John she had two children with.  Her John wouldn't disown their child because of a hearing loss...  Her John wouldn't have a look of disgust on his face...  so who is this John?

"There are things we can do, operations, hearing aids...  he doesn't have to be completely deaf.  He was probably born with some hearing, and we won't know what happened until we explore it further."  The doctor hands Mary several pamphlets, all about deafness and what it means and how little, if they raise him right, it'll affect his life.  "There are things you can do but I cannot stress enough that this child is not damaged.  He is not broken.  There is nothing wrong with him.  He is not sick.  Sam will live a normal life."

"He's not broken," Mary repeats.

"He just can't fuckin' hear," John snarls before storming off.

The doctor clearly wants to help, but Mary just smiles at him as best she can and looks through the hospital room window at her children.

If she has to be a single mother, she will be.

The days grow long and ugly.  John stops talking to Sam altogether, because "what's the point if he can't hear me?"  Mary immediately takes up a sign language class.  If she learns now, she'll be ready when Sam starts to talk...  right?

It's all she can do.

Sam is three months old now, and he's asleep in her arms.  She knows far more about the deaf than she ever thought she would in her life.  Their culture, who they are, what they want.  She's still so ignorant, so closed off to a world that will become Sam's entire world when he's older.  Mary is trying -- and she feels like she's trying all by herself.  The Deaf community has been so welcoming, even though she can barely spell her name.  They enjoy writing back and forth.  There's another hearing mother with a son that was born on the same day as Sam.  She's supportive of the idea that their children aren't broken.

John comes storming into the room like a bat outta hell -- he has so much paperwork in his hands, and he looks like he's about to crawl out of his skin.

"Have you heard of this?  Why didn't the doctor tell us about this?"

"John, calm down."  She almost tells him to stop shouting because he'll wake Sam.  Stupid mistakes...

It's the first time since they found out she's heard him this excited.  About  **anything**.

"It's called a cochlear!"

"I know."

"You know?"

She sighs heavily and lifts the infant onto her shoulder so he can breathe easier.  Sammy sleeps better this way.  She wonders if John knows that.

"Yes, John.  I know.  The doctor has already told me about it, and you would know that, but you stormed off.  You don't listen.  Sometimes I'd think you were deaf, too."  She ignores the look of hurt that races across his face.  "He explained to me the benefits, yes, but he also explained to me the risks!  They have to cut into his brain, John!  If you would go to those meetings with me, you'd know that Deaf people have full and complete lives.  They go to school, they fall in love, they marry.  They communicate using sign language.  He's barely three months old and you already want to change him!"

"Mary...  this could save Sam's life!  He could hear!"

"No, John!  He'll be a robot!  Those...  machines?  They don't make him hearing!  They don't fix him!  They just make him a machine!  He's not hearing, he's not deaf...  he's just in this no place where he'll never belong!  He's already deaf, John!  Do you know how much harder this will make his life?"

"Mary, how can you even bring yourself to deny our son the chance to lead a long and **happy** life?!  A life with music!  With speaking!"

"Because he's not **broken** , John!"

They don't talk very much after that.

It's like living with a ghost.

Dean can sign his name and Sam's.  He said he wants Sam's name sign to be bear, because when Sam cries he sounds like a bear.  Sam is sitting up on his own now, and he cries real tears.  At six months old he's quite a handful, but she loves him, even though he can't hear their voices.  She finds that she loves Sign Language and the Deaf community.

She prays, often, that John will learn with her, that one day he'll snap out of his grief.  Yes, Sam is deaf -- but there's nothing wrong with him.  He's not broken.  He's a perfectly happy baby who laughs and cries just like the rest of them.  He's an easier baby to deal with than Dean, that's for sure, but even Dean now is more interested in learning the language than John is.

One day, she stops talking to him, too.

They don't even tell each other goodnight on the night she dies.


	2. Sunrise Mass

The sanctuary of his mind is a complicated fortress -- a place of silent barriers, but giant monsters that guard the walls.  No one gets in and those who do never get out.  John has always described him as a watcher -- the one that absorbs, takes everything in, the one that looks at you as though he knows your most carefully guarded secret... and who knows? He probably does.  His eyes pierce any veil, especially that of a facade.  Sam has always been good at watching -- it's his whole world.  He can't hear you but he can certainly see you, and he'll always be capable of seeing past your walls.

He's spent his entire life watching.  Now is no different.

From the dark, he watches because he's good at it.  The shadowy figure might think he's being quiet, but Jess has ears like a hawk because Sam doesn't.  She woke him up immediately, and as much as Sam wishes he could erase his bad habits, they are still there, still present and still ready to strike.  He feels like a wolf with its hairs standing on end, ready for battle, ready to defend his homestead.

He's had 22 years of practice -- _watching_.  He's working with four out of five senses, which means his eyesight has to be impeccable.  It has to be, and he has to be better at literally every single thing a hunter does, otherwise he'd never stand a chance.  His own father would forever label him as an invalid if Sam's skills weren't on par with or 900% better than his and his brother's.  Sam remembers being 12 and hitting his first bulls eye with a pistol, and being chastised for not having done it thirty seconds sooner, and then yelled at more because if dad had known he could shoot like that he would have been hunting long before.  And if dad had known that Sam could wield a knife like that, there was no way in hell dad would have kept him cooped up.

It still stands true -- 1 in a 100 walk away from a knife fight with Sam Winchester.  He's Deaf -- he's not broken.

He recalls Dad talking in low tones to Dean, but he never could understand what they were saying.  He only gets the lower end of the audible tones that humans can hear, which means he misses about 80% of everything around him -- or that's what Dad says.  With his hearing aids, he only misses about 60%, so Sam hyper focuses on his vision.  Dean calls it his superpower.

So, he just watches for now.  He left his hearing aid on the bedside table.  He doesn't need it, especially for something like this.  He's clammy in pajamas and a tank top, but this fuckin' clown is almost tearing apart his apartment, and is going through his fridge?

That's it.

If there's one thing Sam learned from John Winchester, it's how to be quiet despite not being able to hear.  Feet on hardwood make a sound.  Clothes rubbing together make a sound.  Breathing makes a sound.  He steps on the balls of his feet.  He's agile, and although he hasn't practically used these skills in about two years -- not since the last time Dean was here.

The assailant is smart but not smarter than Sam, and he manages to get the jump on him before he realizes what hit him.  However, Sam's combat skills are rusty and he's usually only prepared for monsters, not real people.

He's flat on his back with a hand around his throat before he knows what's happened.

It takes him a few more moments for his eyes to adjust before he realizes that it's Dean fuckin' Winchester and he's TALKING.

"You forget I'm Deaf, idiot?!"  He never uses his voice unless absolutely necessary, but that's a lecture on Deaf identity for another time.  Right now Dean needs to get off of him.

"No!" but if Dean signs, he'll have to let go of Sam, so Sam makes him.

They're flipped in less than a second, Dean pinned underneath Sam in the most uncomfortable of ways, and he can see Dean's mouth vaguely moving in the dull lighting, so he claps his hands twice and the lights come on.  He'd been doing so well -- two years without any contact, without bothering anyone and without needing to be around Dean.  He doesn't need Dean, so why does his heart contract so fiercely when his eyes finally adjust to the light and see the way Dean's chest rises and falls between his thighs?  He looks feral, anger painted across his jaw line in thick, bloody strokes.  Sam's not happy, hasn't been in a long time but he was finally adjusting, finally dealing... finally falling out of love and falling into it with someone else, someone who was better for him, someone who wouldn't abandon him.

Sam is suddenly angry.  He would have been less angry if this was just a burglar trying to steal their shitty TV and their computers.  Sam wasn't ready to see his brother so soon.

Sam uses Dean's chest as a spring board to push himself off the ground, angry and jerky movements as he stands and he can see Dean coughing, but he turns his back on his brother. If he turns his back, Dean can't sign.

He feels the hand on his shoulder shoving him around.

"What the fuck, Sam?"  There's his name sign -- the sign for genius.  He got it at the Kansas School for the Deaf, but again, a story for another time.  He retaliates right back, using Dean's name sign -- the sign for dad, but with a D handshape instead.  He's got snotty little brother down pat, even in ASL.

"It's 2am!  I don't have time for this.  I have an interview on Monday.   I need to rest. Leave!"

Dean seems less than impressed, but very clearly chooses another path.

"I need your help Sam.  Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days."

"So?  He's drunk.  He's always drunk.  He'll be home eventually."

"No, Sam.  Dad's on _hunting_ trip- "

The lights in the den flicker on and off, and Jess's sudden presence wraps a salve around Sam's heart. He feels so much more relaxed, and he feels his shoulders slump when she places her hand on his shoulder.

"Who is this?  Is this Dean?  Is this your brother?"

His heart suddenly swells with love for her.  Her sign is so incredible.  In two years she's near fluent and Sam wants to fall on the ground and kiss her feet.

"Yes, this is my brother.   _D-E-A-N_.  Use your voice.  His sign is shit.  He hasn't used it in two years.  I don't mind."

She gives him a warm smile, but regards Dean much colder.  She introduces herself and Dean makes some snide comment.  He doesn't know what but his anger is anything but chill.  He can only make out part of what they're saying.  His lip reading was never that good, but he's not completely in the dark.  Part of him wishes he'd grabbed his hearing aid, but he shouldn't have to change himself just to be involved.  Jess will tell him what he needs to know.

"I need to borrow your boyfriend," Dean says, finally using sign.  "Family stuff. You understand."

"Excuse me?  No!  I'm not going anywhere.  I have things to do."

He can see Dean struggling slightly to understand, but ask Sam if he cares.  Granted, Sam thought he'd never see Dean again when he went an entire year without talking to him.  What was another, or ten, or even a lifetime at that rate?

"Things that are more important than finding your dad?  What could be more important than your family?  I haven't bothered you in two years.  I need your help.  I wouldn't bother you if this wasn't important.  Dad's on a hunting trip, Sam, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Dean's eyes show something far more serious than he's letting on, and something in Sam's stomach drops.  He never expected to be worried about his father ever again, not after he left.  John never checked on him or called, so why should Sam care?  And if he shouldn't care, why the hell did he?

"Jess, give us a minute, please."


	3. Identity & The Ground

Dean had striven his entire life to be just like John, but out of the two of them, Sam was more like John than Dean could ever pretend to be no matter how much Sam tried for the opposite.  Even the loves of their lives went out the same way, and Dean was there to comfort both of them.  He really hopes he's not jealous of two men loosing the loves of their lives.

Sam's wailing broke Dean's heart, shattered it into too many pieces.  All Sam had was his pain, sharp and way out of tune.  He took a couple swings at Dean after he'd hauled Sam out of the apartment, screaming, "Why didn't you let me go back?!"  Dean just stood there, stationary, let the punches fly until Sam got too tired to keep going and collapsed against his chest.  It rattled him, and he sunk to the concrete with his baby brother cradled in his arms.  He called 911, grateful that Sam was Deaf in this moment and couldn't hear the words come out of his mouth.

"My little brother's girl was caught in a house fire.  Please send help."

Once the EMTs had arrived, they almost strapped Sam down, throwing language around like, "this Deaf guy doesn't understand!" and "this moron needs to calm down!"  The last thing Dean wanted was to enlist the helper-model that Sam's interpreters used to use, but he had no choice, not when Sam was so distraught.  Sam had worn himself out, and was quietly sobbing on the gurney.  Dean did his best to interpret, his sign a little rusty since the last time he'd had to use it.  Can't really call Sam on the phone.

They're on a highway to Blackwater Ridge.  They've been driving for too long, Sam's long legs crammed into the passenger seat.  Every time Dean tries to talk to him, he turns away.

If anyone knows how to press Dean's buttons, it's Sam fucking Winchester.

-

Gentle curve of dark earth, a sapphire wink through trees.  Smokey gray silhouettes of watercolor skies, dark brush strokes across the horizon.  Sam studies his surroundings as they blur past him, but the horizon never changes.  His eyesight is all he has right now, although he feels like he's going crazy.  There's so much silence, and no matter how loud he screams, he still can't hear.  People give him that look -- that "poor Deaf kid" look whenever they hear him talk or see him sign.  Sometimes, _sometimes_ , he wishes he were normal.

He chooses not to talk because his Deaf identity is who he is, but he suffered through so many punk ass Deaf programs and mainstream ideals that strapped his hands down and forced him to speak that he _learned_ to speak and he can, well enough (for the "Deaf guy"), especially because John's sign was about the equivalent of a really talented two year old.  Sometimes he wishes he'd made a better promise to himself, a better promise.

_I will not alter my Deafness just to make you more comfortable._

It's why he turns away from Dean in the car.

Apparently this whole car makes noise -- the wheels going 60 mph on the pavement, the engine running, the oil greasing the gears when the car downshifts, Dean shifting on the leather seats when his legs start falling asleep, the damn radio for God's sake.  Sam can't hear any of it. He's grateful for the opportunity to just check out, to take his hearing aids off and be truly alone with himself, but he feels like he'll die if he sees her face flash in his periphery one more time.

-

"Hungry?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Too fuckin' bad, Sam."

"Mumbling under your breath only works if I not looking at you, dumbass."

Hearing aids paired with lip reading means he catches more than Dean wants him to sometimes.  He grunts when Dean shoves a burrito into his gut.  It's bean and cheese -- vegetarian for the family pet.  Dean's little joke when Sam decided on a whim at 15 to go meat free.  Under these circumstances, it didn't last very long, but Dean still liked to poke fun.  He assumes that's what Dean is trying to do, to ease the chill, but Jess is dead and Sam feels like he is, too.

"Shut up and eat, Sam."

ASL that time.  Dean's getting better.  He also tosses a water bottle his way while he cracks open a Dr. Pepper.  How Dean isn't perpetually dehydrated, Sam will never know.

"It's crazy how it only took two years for your sign to deteriorate to Dad's level, and he never knew as much as you did."

Dean looks visibly hurt, and has to put his burger down to sign.

"Not a lot of Deaf people on the road."

Another silence falls between them and Sam's afraid that sentence was a little too far, but he can tell that Dean's grateful he's talking at least.  He tries again.

"I would have guessed that you'd use the sign to pick up Deaf girls at a Deaf Night Out or something.  Go to the Deaf schools when you're rolling through and scope out the meat."

Dean just shakes his head.  Sam sighs and switches to speaking.

"You want me to shut up?"

There's another visible flash of something, maybe a smile across his brother's face as Dean turns uncomfortable in the seat to face his brother.  He's 26 but he looks about twice that in this moment, but he looks happy.  Sam's voice made him... happy?

"Never. Never, Sam."  Dean follows suit and speaks, as well.  Since Sam was a kid, he'd always wished he could hear Dean's voice and not just the hushed whispers his hearing aids made it out to be.  "I'd let you talk until you were blue in the face.  I'd let you sign until I couldn't see straight anymore.  As long as you talk."

"You prefer I talk or sign?"

"It's what you prefer, brother.  You know I love your voice."

No.

Sam looks away from him as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  He could swear it's Jess, running her fingers along his spine and whispering to him about the mistakes he made and the mistakes he'll make again if he's not careful.  The way Dean looks at him like he's hung the sun and the moon just for him, like he's the stars and the comets in the sky, like there are galaxies painted across Dean's skin.

Like he loves him.

He takes a bite of the burrito.

It tastes like shit.


End file.
